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Lilina opened her blue eyes and clutched at his finger. Hector smiled. She was so small, so perfect… like her mother. Lyn stood at his shoulder.
“She’s so cute… I can’t believe she’s one already,” she said tearily.
“Aye,” Hector agreed, a frown dancing about his face.
Lyn was quiet for moment, before speaking as though reading his thoughts, “You’re thinking about what Lord Athos said again, aren’t you?”
“I can’t help it. Greybeard said that war would come… look at her. She seems so vunerable. What will the war bring? Will she grow up, happy, in peace? Or will there be bloody fields of battle and the horrors of war?”
“Hector…”
“I’m worried, Lyn. I want to protect her, but I don’t know if I can.”
“What? Why wouldn’t you be able to?”
Hector was silent. He hadn’t told Lyn, or anyone, about Armads. At the time, the words Armads had spoken didn’t seem important. What had been important was helping Eliwood, saving the world. Not the consequences.

Lilina looked up at the thoughtful face of her father quizzically, blinking at him with her bright blue eyes. These same eyes would, in years to come, see all the horrors of war and a homeland wreaked by destruction, battles barely won and battles lost. Sadness, pain, fear… but with all this, still there would be hope. A hope that what was broken could be renewed.

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Gentle as usual, the sunlight shone softly atop the hill where a small group sat around an upright stone slab. A woman stepped forward, her long red hair usually in a braid was flowing freely today. She slowly smiled, thinking that if she smiled, she could hold back the tears a little longer. Gently, almost reverantly, she opened a bottle of aged wine and poured it over the stone slab. It was bitter, and smelt of aloe and herbs. It splashed down the grave marker, spilling onto the ground below where it was soaked up with what appeared to be evident relish. Clasping her hands together, she returned to her spot and sat down. Five men stood now, all in tandem as if they were in sacred ritual. Two spears, two arrows and an axe were drawn. Slowly, they nodded to one another before jamming them into a ground in perfect symmetry, the two spears and two arrows on either end of the headmarker, and the axe just behind it. They smiled to one another and sat back down as a blue haired man and two women stood on either side of him.
They drew their swords and held them high in the air, the sunlight reflecting gently off of their keen blades. The blue haired man jabbed his straight into the ground, while the two women placed theirs at jutting angles, creating a little formation of swords in front of the gravestone.

"Happy Birthday Father." The blue haired man whispered softly.
"Happy Birthday, Father" the young girl on his side echoed.
"Happy Birthday Commander Greil" the rest said quietly in chorus.

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Emotive Crash
==========
Silk banners hung from the walls, corner to corner, waves of expensive cloth. Reds and blues, mainly a regally darkish shade. A skilled tailor had embroidered "Hayt, Happy 23rd" in yellow thread across three of the banners, one on each doorless wall.
The other décor was of equal grandeur, white tablesheets and silver spoons, red carpet with yellow trimmings, a large piano, tiny useless tables everywhere for hors d'oeuvres and wine goblets.

There was wine, mutton, wine, dark chocolate cake (imported of course) and wine. There was a live performer there to use the piano, fingers skilfully dancing across the ivory and ebony, his eyes closed as he listened to the beauty of his own work, as pompous as that was.

Hayt sat on the main table, empty and clean plates scattered around him, several bottles of wine laying open and empty. Their dark liquid dribbled out of the neck like blood from a severed head. As dark as the reference was, the same went for the Ronin’s thoughts.
He had drawn the fresh, reinforced katana he recieved from his father, and was currently staring at it, wine goblet in his other hand.

“…b… guh… bastard ingrates.” The cuss came forth slowly and slurred, followed by a hiccup. Hayt’s eyes were fuzzy, his body swayed, his breath was heavy.

When the time had come for the guests to arrive, Hayt welcomed in his father and a couple of his father’s men. The father and son talked for a brief moment, never getting along, tension so thick you could cut it with the aforementioned sword. Even with the strenuous relationship they shared, Di always showed up. It was a symbol of pride and respect.
They toasted, shared extremely light conversation, hacking a leg off the mutton and feeding the Shogun’s escort. The musician played, the night crawled on…

Di left, after a while, granting Hayt the gift of a new weapon, one actually useful in combat.

A bottle hurtled toward one of the walls, shattering on impact and scattering glass everywhere. The pianist stopped, looking a little shocked at the booze and glass on his keys.
“Perhaps.. I should leave.”

Hayt threw a coin purse at him, opening a new bottle.
“…screw them all…hic.”

Memories, years of loneliness flooded in. He had always been nice. Always been funny. Always been brave.
He just never fit in. He didn’t understand why.
A tear rolled down his cheek, and he grit his clean, perfect teeth, the tear dropping onto his red and gold robes.

“I HATE YOO ALL! Yoo hear meee? I… I’ll fricking.. and never come batch.” Sobbing wracked his body, head on his knees, hair getting in his face, but he didn’t care.
Next ship that came by, he was on…
Here, his adventure began.

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It was a horrible day.  A day of fear.  Today was Miledy’s birthday.

Miledy was an attractive young lady, who liked the fact that she was a young, attractive lady.  She also was a force of nature, and able to completely ravage armies with little effort.  But today, was one of those horrible days when her youth was threatened!

The disaster began with Zeiss.  He had visited her to give her a cake.  However, the results of this would be dire.  On it, it read “Happy birthday, you old lady!”

And to top this off, Miledy was on her period.  And there was hell to pay.  Miledy grabbed the nearest lance-like object near her, and pinned Zeiss to a tree.  Then, getting her real spear, just went on a rampage through Sacae.  With her Delphi Shield, they could do nothing but die, as it easily deflected any arrows that went her way.

But her rampage was stopped…

“Miledy, stop this!  This is not like you!  What happened to that kind girl that I fell in love with?”  The ghost of Gale had come to bring her back to her senses.

“Oh, Gale!  What have I done?”  Miledy slid off her Wyvern, Trifinne, and onto the ground.  She sat there, weeping into her hands.  “I miss you, Gale!”

“Don’t worry, Miledy…  Someday, we will be together again…  Maybe sometime far down the road, or sometime soon-” And he was cut off.  Even implying it was possible that she would be dead soon told her PMS-ridden head that Gale was implying she was old.

She immediately shot back up on Trifinne, and this time went to Ilia.  The young Pegasus Knights of Ilia were her targets.  They may be young and beautiful, but they would die for it!  Like a whirlwind of death, Miledy crushed every single fragile Pegasus Knight she encountered.

After she tired from the bloodshed, Miledy returned home to Bern.  And things would turn out just fine.  Zeiss didn’t know what the hell hit him, and Miledy didn’t leave any witnesses in Sacae or Ilia.  And much to the confusion of her people, Queen Guinevere passed a law forbidding anyone from giving Miledy a birthday cake.  And Miledy lived happy ever after.

Cooltrainer Nick

Aug 31 2006, 02:01 PM

I vote number 1, then number 2.